


Awakening

by the_Bad_Wolf_02



Series: Quiet before the Storm [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 13 year olds, Annoying classmate, Ben!pain, Gen, How Do I Tag, More of an OC backstory, Not really closely linked, OC is a power child, OC meets the Hargreeves, Poor Ben, Set in 2002, She is English, She just has issues because she was abandoned, Storm is my OC, Storm isn’t really a bad student, Storm likes scary stuff, bank robbery idea, explosions go boom, not me, slightly cliché but blame her power’s aura, they don’t have iPhones in 2002, tried to make it realistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_Bad_Wolf_02/pseuds/the_Bad_Wolf_02
Summary: Storm Harper is an ordinary girl at an ordinary highschool in London.Except she isn’t, she just doesn’t know it yet.Born on the first of October, 1989, she had been left to live with her loving aunt, Lyra, when her Mother ran away with some random bloke a week after her birth.Storm is a good student if you look closely. She may act rebelliously but it’s just a call for the love and attention she craves. Despite this, she lives for the thrill and practically dives at dangerous situations. That’s how she finds herself face to face with a boy covered head to toe in other people’s blood.ORStorm Harper goes on a trip to Toronto, gets caught up in a robbery and saves a bloody Ben Hargreeves.Alternatively titled ‘The Blood Boy with the Tentacles!k
Relationships: OC & Ben Hargreeves, OC & OC
Series: Quiet before the Storm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014513
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this instead of sleeping and I have a test today so oops. I also have literally no idea what 2002 was like so sorry if I write something incorrect, I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible but none of us are perfect right? I have also, living in Manchester, never been to London OR Toronto so sorry for any things that aren’t correct there. I will remind you that some of the filming locations in TUA don’t actually correspond with real life so it’s hard to be factual or precise when writing places like the Capitol Wets Bank so please just go with the flow. If something’s really wrong please tell me so I can edit it.   
> Anyway:  
> Storm Harper is my OC and this is effectively her backstory. Really, you don’t need to read any of this other then the last part for the rest of the series to make sense. At this point, I haven’t written anything else but I have a plan.   
> As I don’t trust my drawing skills, I designed the OC on Gacha Club (I know, don’t hate on me but that was the easiest platform to use). Some of her reminds me of myself however she’s mostly fictional (I have parents, friends, NO POWERS SADLY and I am more open).  
> Family:  
> Aunt: Lyra Brook  
> Uncle: Roy Brook  
> Mother: Chrissie Harper  
> Father: N/A  
> Cousins: Marina, Celest and Arabella Brook  
> Siblings: unknown  
> Favourite Teachers: Ms Penny Baker and Mr John Barnsley   
> Least favourite teacher: Mr Webster  
> Enemy: Trisha
> 
> She has this special aspect that I can relate to: the teacher!student relationship she has with Penny and John. I used to share this sort of friendship with my teachers in Belgium and thought I’d incorporate it into my story to emphasise how hard it is for her to make friends and how much she relies on adults. Their names were Penny and Caroline but I needed some variety, ya know?  
> Also, I’m a sucker for Ben and Justin Min so be prepared for soft Ben content at some point.  
> Trip, Storm’s “imaginary pet” is loosely based off Pan from His Dark Materials which is an amazing book series I really recommend. I got her aunt’s name from this book too.
> 
> Some facts:  
> Airport security was still pretty low at this point, turns out the Hargreeve’s birthday is before they upgraded their security slightly. Plane crashed were still common at this time so... yeah  
> MP3 players are like the equivalent of iPods before apple existed  
> MP4 players are MP3 players but with video rather than music  
> Flip-phones are just an iPhone you use to call people, nothing else  
> Polaroids are cameras that print photos you take  
> CN tower is the tall tower in Toronto  
> Eaton Center is a big shopping mall in Toronto  
> Spooks is a TV show you can find on iPlayer aired in 2001  
> Buffy the Vampire slayer is a TV show you can find on BritBox aired in the 70s I think  
> Hopefully you know what Kim Possible and Power Rangers are  
> Fireflies is an abandoned show as of 2003  
> Coronation St and Eastenders are long running soaps/dramas that are still on TV today  
> Busking is playing an instrument live to try and earn money on the streets   
> Burger King is a fast food place, mainly sell burgers
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed! :D  
> Xxx

**(Evening of 11/07/1994)**

Storm didn’t hate school, neither did she love it. Lyra told her that people went there not only to learn but to meet others and do things you enjoy. Her Uncle told her that school was school and it’s purpose was to teach. Having been home-schooled my a private tutor, Storm knew this already. Uncle Roy was mean. He didn’t like her because she was ‘unwanted’. Now that hurt to here at such a young age. But that was that and Storm didn’t like him anyway. Storm’s Mother, Chrissie Harper, ran away with a random bloke a week after her baby’s birth, leaving the little child in Aunt Lyra’s capable hands. Lyra Brook was married to Roy Brook and had three children already: Marina Brook, the eldest, Celest Brook, now the second oldest thanks to Storm, and Arabella who was two years old. Now, Storm was 8, Arabella was 10, Celest was 13 and Marina was 14. Arabella told her that school was amazing and fun. However, her first day wasn’t particularly fun or amazing. It sounded more like the hell hole Celest and Marina described. 8 year old Storm was lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling. The ceiling was, in fact, boring but it was something to do: pretty much anything can keep children around that age busy. The ceiling had a curly pattern and Storm traced it in the air with her finger, sticking her tongue out in concentration. She liked the way it seemed to swirl beneath her gaze. Trip mewled calmly on her left as she stroked between the cats ears, pulling lightly on the currently blue, fur in little twisting motions with one hand. The meows grew more needy and Storm rolled her eyes, always so demanding. She turned to pick her furry friend up when Aunt Lyra knocked gently on her door making Trip disappear, “Storm, sweety. Can I come in?” The girl hummed quietly, puffing out her cheeks as she sat up to make some room for her Aunt on the bed.

Storm got into trouble three times on her first day at primary school, she upset a bossy girl named Trisha by choosing to sit in her place. Trisha then proceeded to bother her all day. Storm didn’t like Trisha. With in 6 hours she’d trained herself so that whenever she spotted those dark green irises or neat, chocolate ponytails, she dived through the nearest door into a bathroom or on one occasion classroom. That’s the second thing that got her in trouble. The third was when she stood up for herself against Trisha when the taller girl rounded on Storm for standing too close to her best friend. No surprise, Trisha immediately went crying to the teacher. It was petty stuff but it was still disappointing. Storm didn’t want to stay downstairs at all when she got home, Uncle Roy was having a row with Aunt Lyra, arguing about her again. If she should be sent away or something of those words. He had been about to lecture her about behaviour and reputations when he noticed Storm unpacking her bags, no way. Absolutely not. She’d been hidden in her bedroom since, even after the shouting match had calmed down. Even having been balled at, Lyra was kind and caring towards Storm,

“Hey, darling. What happened today?”

“I-I.... I don’t even know... It’s not my fault.”

**(The next day)**

“Oh, Storm. What did you do?”

“I may or may not have sworn at a girl in my class. She deserved it though!”

**(And the next)**

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t worry, booboo. I’m not mad, what was it today?”

”I got into a fight with an older boy for ‘harassing’ their sister.”

**(And the next)**

“How serious was it this time?”

“Not really that serious, there’s this girl. And she just exists to make my life impossible. Well, I had enough and I told her to leave me alone. For some reason that’s a crime.”

**(And the next)**

“Aww, what happened this time, sweetheart?”

“Her names Trisha. She hates me and I think I hate her too.”

It happened every day for the rest of her life. Trisha happened every day for the rest of her life. Screw Trisha.

* * *

**(Evening, 20/09/2002)**

She was 13 soon. She thought maybe someone at school would remember. except She didn’t know why, maybe because it felt important. It was quickly becoming clear how much everyone cared. She was a loner anyway: an anomaly that put people off. There was an aura about her that repelled friendship and company according to the many people she’d met in the past and had told her so. Ever since her first week at school when people didn’t understand how much words could hurt. Sometimes it was as if she was invisible as she walked past people in the hallways, or sat down at a table during lunch. It was thoughts that made Storm want to go AWOL like Chrissie did, just to escape the pressure of it all. Sometimes she wonders why her mum fled like that. She didn’t resent her mum, Chrissie Harper sounded wonderful according to her mum’s older sister, Aunt Lyra. When Lyra revealed she didn’t know why she left Storm behind either, it led the child to wonder if there was something wrong with her that made her mum leave. Storm moved from the bed to sit on the windowsill across from the door. Why did everyone hate her? The moon shone brightly behind the curtains which swayed in the breeze coming from her open window. There was another question that bugged her: who was her father? Did her mother know? Did Lyra know? She peeled back the fabric and watched the night sky contently, the stars twinkled brightly in the darkness. It was so pretty, if only the sky was full of sparkling supernov-

“Hey Storm, come on down now, Sweetheart. Let’s watch some TV together, huh?”

With a nod, she shakily slid from her perch, bare feet padding against the cold, hard floor and followed Aunt Lyra downstairs to where Arabella and Celest were arguing about what channel to watch. Uncle Roy was sat behind the bickering pair and actively ignored them all. He was obviously in a bad mood. It was amusing at first but as 1 minute stretched to three and the girls were still fighting, Storm sank down into her spot beneath Aunt Lyra’s arm and sighed. If Marina were here, she would roll her eyes at the dispute and smirk quietly to Storm when she easily took the remote from the pair and put Coronation Street on. Marina was Storm’s favourite sister and she admired her every move. It was too bad she didn’t live here anymore: Marina was 20 now and lived alone somewhere else. She used to enjoy nights like these, especially when they watched Kim Possible and Power Rangers. Marina was the only one who would watch it with her. Storm was older now and preferred Spooks, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly but Uncle Roy refused to watch them, probably out of spite.

Storm lived in an apartment in the outskirts of London and went to one of those average, local, overpopulated Secondary Schools. Yet not a single one of those students wanted to be her friend. Storm had an imaginary friend instead. Her “friend’s” name was Trip; she’d named them after her favourite video game character. Trip was bonded to her, her mood corresponded to Storm’s. Like a soulmate except Trip didn’t exist without Storm, if she thought scientifically, Trip was more a projection of her mind than anything. Right now, Trip was being a Bengal kitten as per usual, purring as Storm stroked Trip’s soft, leopard-y fur and relished in the feeling of comfort it gave her. Trip had always been an anchor, she’d learnt not to question Trip’s existence. Trip was Trip and Trip was her imaginary, life-long companion. Storm fell asleep on Lyra’s shoulder watching a woman screaming at a drunk man in a bar. Really, she craved action, gore and death. Lyra would never watch anything like it, instead she resorted to visiting the local library. Books would always allow her to escape, she loved books.

**(Later that week, London, 29/09/2002)**

The bus chugged loudly in the background and Storm couldn’t help smiling. She’d never left England before, being on a plane didn’t scare her.

“I’ll pick you up on Monday. Ok? Have fun on your birthday and I’ll make you a cake for when you get back, sweety. Now, be safe and enjoy!”

Lyra let go of her niece and watched as the blonde girl set off for the coach and handed her suitcase to the driver who stored it in the luggage area beneath the seating area. She ended up sitting next to a tall boy who liked video games at the front of the bus. She talked at him for half an hour, asked him about his favourite games and if she could have a go on his Nintendo DS when he won a game. She was soon moved for “harassing him” and ended up next to a teacher. Why did everyone hate her? The only bonus was her two favourite teachers were sat across the aisle so she could talk to them; at least the teachers weren’t affected, or if they were they didn’t show it.. She drew loads of sketches and doodles in a notepad with the art teacher which soon became a drawing contest. Of course Penny won because she was a professional artist but Storm didn’t mind. She was an amazing teacher and Storm would do anything for her. Her favourite drawing was of a dolphin. Dolphin’s were awesome. When Ms Baker (Penny) had to get up to help someone at the back of the bus, Storm put her things away and started talking to the English teacher, Mr Barnsley (John), instead. Her strongest subjects were the creative subjects: Storm liked to imagine and construct. John was explaining extra things to include in her writing at school when they were interrupted. “Storm Harper! Where are you!?” Oh dear. Here we go again. She winced, gingerly turning around and raising her hand, sitting back down as Mr Webster strode up the bus, “Tell the truth, Las. Where have you put Trisha’s toy.” Storm looked up and ignored the fear bubbling in her chest, “The only fidget toy I have on me is my own, I haven’t stolen anyone’s.” Mr Webster shook his head disbelievingly, “I don’t think that’s yours, Storm. Now give it back.” Storm reached into her rucksack and rummaged around, grasping onto her toy and revealing it... except it was pink themed and not blue. Well, no escaping this one. Trisha really got her this time, “That’s it! That’s my toy! It was in her bag!” There was a collective gasp, everyone near her checked their bags. Yet again Trisha had managed to turn a whole group against her. She put the wavy toy into the teachers hand and wiped a tear from her eye before rummaging around to find her own. When she revealed it, the pieces had been cracked and taken apart, a few were missing even. Penny looked sympathetically at Storm as more tears flowed down the young girl’s cheeks but was otherwise silent. Her flip-phone and MP3 were confiscated as a punishment for “stealing” others property until they got to Toronto. Trisha was sat at the back of the bus, how was Storm expected to have stolen that from her? Fid no-one think about her at all? Favouritism. Just favouritism.

The rest of the journey to the airport was quiet and boring. She spent most of the next 15 minutes in her new place on the window side of Mr Webster staring at the different cars and worrying about plane crashes, her confidence diminished, until they arrived. When they got there, she did as she was told and quickly followed her teachers around. They had a drink and or food from a small coffee shop, went to the toilet one last time and handed their suitcases in to be loaded on. All that was left was her mini-bag with earplugs, mints, a book, a camera and Trip in. Well, Trip only appeared to her because she was just a fragment of Storm’s lonely imagination. Her bag went through fine so she joined her class in the queue. It took a while for everyone to get checked but fortunately, they still had 15 minutes as it was 16:45. When they got on the plane, it was slightly later than planned but all was well. The plan was to get to Toronto and sleep. Simple right. She popped a mint into her mouth as they took off, trying to ignore the turbulence and read a magazine that had been out in the seat pouch in-front of her. Harper read and slept through most of the flight, occasionally playing with Trip as she sat alone on the plane behind her 14 other classmates and 5 teachers. What a lovely trip this would be.

**(21:13, Toronto, same day)**

Toronto is 5 hours behind the UK so they arrived at 9PM. However this meant they were really tired. Despite this, Storm still managed to be in awe as they drove to the hotel. It was really different to London. Everyone sounded American (well, duh) and had a completely different attitude. They weren’t rude but they were loud. Trisha and her friends were hoping to get the 5 bedroom so she was grateful when she found out the dorms, they were single sex and she didn’t have to share with Trisha, thank the Lord, but she was slightly annoyed to find out she’d been put in the 5 bedroom. But there were bunk-beds so that made up for having to share. With a grin, Storm moved into the room followed by some shorter girls. Making clear that one of the top bunks was hers by throwing her stuff onto the nearest one and climbed onto it, blatantly ignoring the ladders because what fun was that? She quickly changed into her “short and T-shirt” PJs facing the wall before she lay on her back listening to the other girls chat and giggle. This was ok, she could do this. If she couldn’t join in she could at least observe. Mr Webster trudged in about 15 minutes after lights out and told the girls off for staying up, but really she came to give Storm her phone and MP3 back. Storm didn’t say thank you, she would thank Penny tomorrow for convincing the witch to give the phone back. Mrs Webster turned on her heal and left, tutting about manners and spoilt brats, Harper flipped her off and turned over onto her right to quietly call Lyra and tell her she was safe. Then she pushed in her earplugs and listened to some calming music. Now she could sleep peacefully, Trip tucked under her arm and body sinking into a surprisingly soft mattress. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all.

Harper woke up slowly, it was way too bright. She opened her eyes a slit and stared groggily at her roommate who was stood looking out the window. She moaned quietly. It was as if she was at home and her mum was telling her to get up, “Whyyyyyyy. Five more minutes, pleeease.” With that, she buried her face in the soft pillow, breathing in the refreshing lavender scent. The girl had re-shut the curtains soon after and Harper tilted her head to say thank you before she collapsed for ten more minutes. The next time she actually got up, as did the other girls. Storm put Trip (currently a Pine Martin) on her shoulder as she applied a blue face mask. She kept it on as she went and unpacked her stuff, ignoring the stares of her roommates who obviously hadn’t started puberty yet. Again, the world hates her. Acne was a curse that nobody could escape, late starters were late finishers. At least hers would start to ease off before theirs when it was more important. Mask were satisfying anyhow. She decided on a simple outfit: white blouse, large blue-grey hoodie, black boots and some grey jeans. You can’t go wrong with simple, just like the simple ponytail she was sporting. When she came back from washing her mask off, the other girls were just leaving and Storm rushed to join them, following them down to the dining hall where they were going to have brunch. Today’s activity was climbing the CN tower which sounded quite interesting. She knew what it looked like but they arrived in the dark last night so she didn’t actually see it. When they arrived they barely had time for food before they set-off. Oh well. A massive tower sounded awesome anyway.

* * *

**(Morning, 01/10/2002)**

“Bea! Come on, we have to get up now! Today we’re going site seeing and then we get to go to the Eaton Centre!” Storm yawned and stretched, climbing out of bed and cringing when her warm feet met the cold floor, “Morning everyone.” Two girls quietly mumbled a reply whilst the rest of them just stared at her with varying expressions. She hated sharing a room. Especially after yesterday when Trisha made fun of her clothes. The week with them was getting progressively awkward. Whilst the other 5 girls got dressed, Storm went to the bathroom to brush her hair and wash her face. She smiled weakly a the mirror, mouthing a ‘Happy 13!’ to herself before picking up a brush and attacking her long, blonde hair. She decided on pigtails as a special birthday look and quickly tied the hair into two neat plaits. She only had so long before the others came in so she quickly picked up her flannel, abandoning a face-mask for a day and just doing a quick scrub using her other soap. She then changed her contact lenses, growling when she dropped one in the white, marble sink. There was no quick way to put contacts in. After a few seconds of scrambling to pick it up, Storm finally got the rounded lenses into her eye. When she was confident she could see, Storm brushed her teeth and slipped out of the bathroom through the second door to the dormitory before the other girls barged in with their make-up bags. Storm never understood the need to cover your face with cosmetics so she generally avoided it. Deciding that she didn’t want a repeat of yesterday, she slipped into her uniform and rolled the skirt up, she also picked up the sun hat she picked up from the store next to the CN tower yesterday. Storm set off for the dining area where they met every morning for breakfast. The rules were: you share a dormitory with at least 3 others, you eat with the people in your dorm, your dorm isn’t your group so remember your activity group, you stick to your activity group when you’re outside the hotel or otherwise told and follow your designated teacher.

Storm was the first down so she politely took her waffles from the caterer and ate them slowly at her room’s table. She was halfway through her breakfast when noise burst into the room as two groups entered at once. Storm shrank into herself; maybe being first down was a bad idea because now nine people were watching her whilst they queued. She also should have worn something other than her uniform because she was the only one by the looks of it. To avoid eye contact, Storm looked down and stared at her food as she ate. Usually she came down with the other girls but she was too much of a coward. She was selfish and stupid. That’s all she could think as she finished her waffle. All around her, people ate and talked happily with each other but all she could do was think. Alone. Forgotten. Despised. Wow, she really was a loner. Oh well, she just wanted to see the big shopping centre today. She’d just have to get through the rest.

**(Lunch, same day)**

They’ve been wondering the streets all morning, in and out of shops, through little parks and across big yards. Storm hadn’t bought something to fiddle with yet but she was waiting for the Eaten-Eton-Eaton Centre or whatever it was called. However, she did get some cheap but cool sunglasses because the last pair broke earlier when she dropped them and the sun was quite bright so she could really do with a pair. Ms Baker and Mr Barnsley were amused with her choice (dark, round frames with reflective blue to silver lenses) and created a ridiculous fanfare when she walked out of the shop, whistling loudly and whooping like they were at a football match. So embarrassing. They were currently milling around at the square outside the Capitol West Bank whilst they wait for the popular teacher to come back with food from Burger King. The building (despite being a bank) was very pretty and quite the attraction if the small groups dotted around the place were anything to go by. “What a grand building, don’t you think?” Storm nodded in answer to Mr Barnsley’s question, pulling out her camera to take a picture. “I like the architecture, especially the pillars. I wonder how hard it was to design?” On her other side, Ms Baker came to stand next to her, “I imagine it all depends on skill. With talent like yours, I’m sure you’d have no problem. Ever considered being an architect, Storm?” She shook her head; Harper wasn’t sure what she wanted to be. Perhaps she would never be anything and she would just live on the streets begging for money. That would be a sad excuse for life. Or she could just give in. It would be so much easier, right? Abandoning those self destructive thoughts and burying them within the depths of her brain, Storm decided it was time to talk, “Which jobs do you suggest I stay away from?” Ms Baker and Mr Barnsley listed off many. Some of them were more obvious than others like plane pilot, lorry driver, supermarket worker. All the jobs Storm didn’t even consider really. The best jobs are the most, fun and imaginative ones. Another obvious one was teaching, they both told her not to go down that route. Storm really didn’t want to anyway, teaching sucked in her opinion. They were about to discuss salaries and equality when there was a loud cheer and she turned back around in time to see Mr Chriswell appear with a big cardboard box in the back of a cab. She was quite hungry, if only they could go back to the CN tower: the food there was great and Toronto was yet to offer a meal to rival with it. Stood with the teachers, she was given food last. It was somewhat annoying but it gave her a chance to look at the photos she’d taken on her little camera. Next years birthday list now had art book, a second teddy and Polaroid on it. Storm didn’t have the money for it. The school only had so much American money to exchange for pounds so she had to be careful on what she bought. Birthday 2002 would have to wait.

She had just put her camera in her bag when Mr Chriswell announced after they finish their food, they’re going to head towards the shopping centre so it shouldn’t be too long a wait. And that was all before he turned back to his crowd of students. There were only a few spots left to sit on the wall so Storm decided to surrender her perch to Penny whilst she sat at the teachers feet. Between mouthfuls, she commented on little things, just filling the time with rambling commentary. Nothing particularly interesting; large packs of site-seers taking pictures the buildings, people trying to earn money by busking or various other acts or dress-ups, some men washing the façade and footpath around the bank, lots of people feeding the pigeons and a group of parked motorbikes with awesome patterns sprayed onto the side. “Hey, Ms Baker. What do you think they’re doing? Are they cleaning the building or what?” Penny looked up and hummed as she chewed nonchalantly agreeing with a “Yes, it looks that way.” before turning back to squinting at her MP4 in the harsh sunlight . Storm got to her feet and wondered off in the direction of the cleaners. She passed a small group of people from her school who were taking pictures of themselves beneath the pillars with silly faces. Storm reminded herself of manners as she approached the nearest guy, “Excuse me, would you like some help, sir?” He barely looked up as he grunted out a decisive no. Storm crossed her arms, taking a step back and chewing on the last part of her burger. She quickly went to pop the wrapper in the bin before coming back. “Oi, do you English not understand simple sentences. I said no, kid. Go away.” Now Storm really frowned and learnt against the pillar, “Well sorry for trying to help.” He turned around fully and Storm gulped, he was tall and had a scar across his left eye. Since when do cleaners get so roughed up? “Look, girly. Mind ya own business, alrigh’?” She nodded and sat with her back to him on the top step. It wasn’t too sunny here, she lifted her glasses and looked around. It looked more vibrant without the tinted sunglasses. A few years ago she had to wear boring, prescribed sunglasses but now she had contacts. Contact lenses had saved her life, curse her mum for having bad eye sight from an early age. The sky was a bright blue, an uncommon occurrence in Britain, and birds were flying this way and that. Skyscrapers lined the sky above the buildings in every seeable direction and on the left, she could see the CN tower shimmering in the lunchtime glow. Her bottom was starting to hurt again so she got up and stretched. When she turned around, Storm did a double take, all 5 men were gone, the only sign they were ever there, the wet sheen all over the floor and walls. Bending down, Storm sniffed it, scrunching up her face and gagging as she did so. It smelt of oil. That was definitely oil. The hell?! Do they wax buildings with oil now or something. Seconds ticked by and Storm just started to process what was happening. Someone was going to attempt a robbery. Well, one solution for it, “RUNNNNN! EVERYBODY RUN!” The boys near her looked up with puzzled frowns, the nearest group of tourist shuffled back, Penny and the other teachers got up. Some looked worried, some worried for her sanity, others actually did as she advised whilst others laughed. There was a second of literal silence before several shots went off shattering a window pane on the floor above. Storm quickly moved away from the falling glass and watched panic settle into everyone’s faces. There was commotion going on behind these doors. Screams from inside seeping through the cracks. Why wasn’t Storm running like everyone else? Because she couldn’t. Who was she to miss something exciting and dangerous? It was practically what she lived for. Storm turned to the main doors and shook hard: locked and bolted. DAMN, how did she miss this stuff. She was literally sat right in front of the doors for five whole minutes! She moved to the nearest window on the right and peered in, banging on it before the curtain was suddenly ripped from its place and a woman with a hole through her chest fell against the window, ouch.

Through the open doors to the room, she could see a fight going on in the main hall. Did that guy from earlier just shoot another guy. What on Earth? There was a crash and a sickening crunch and Storm whipped around in time to see a VERY bloody boy with actual effing tentacles coming out of his chest. Or was she hallucinating because a blink later they were gone. She quickly rushed down the steps and grasped the boy in her arms. She sat the boy up against her knee, not caring about the blood dripping onto her leg, and felt for a pulse but coming back with none. Wait, there was one but it was very faint. “Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot. Please don’t die.” His ribs felt so wrong and broken, his heart rate erratic and his shoulders looked far too broad and pushed back. Oh God. This kid was dead, what the hell happened to him?! What even was today?! And then there were more cracking sounds... “What the...” She dropped him, regretfully yes, but that was just so wrong. The kid arched off the ground, his ribs literally shifting before her eyes whilst his shoulders came in and down. It was horrific and hella awesome. She didn’t look away, captivated by the alien nature of it. And then the kid sat up and looked directly at her. Fear and shame written all over his face. She waved gingerly, only now noticing the blood all over her hand and leg. WHY WASN’T THIS FREAKING HER OUT MORE?! She stood up and held out a hand to the strange, blood octopus boy watching closely as he softly reached out and grabbed it. What happened next was a bit of a blur. Whilst she was distracted with the injured stranger, the façade lit up with fire, causing the imminent explosion...

Except they didn’t go sprawling back, no blood gushed from her wounds, no wounds at all I’m fact. Just a distant... Ringing. Fuzziness. The boy still held onto her hand, slightly tighter than before except now he looked at her with confusion, not embarrassment. She didn’t even realise they’d not exchanged words yet, and she didn’t need to. Suddenly the blood-covered boy was hugging her tightly. Actions speak better than words. Trip was being a little cream Pine Martin, sat on her head to avoid the blood. Honestly, the blood should bother her more than it did. When he pulled back, they just sort of stared at each other with a curiosity. The boy looked around her age, Korean or Asian maybe, dark hair, brown eyes and a very bloody uniform. Was he a school kid on a trip, or was he someone else. Because as far as she was concerned, school kids don’t get bloody like this, almost die and then recover in less than a minute. Even Storm the crazy idiot and adrenaline junkie had never done that. Trip seemed to draw his attent- WAIT WHAT. He gently reached out a hand to her head and Storm stared incredulously as Trip reluctantly climbed onto his palm. Oh. My. God. When he looked back up from Trip who still stood on his surprisingly steady palm, the pair didn’t stop staring. Not even when five others wearing the same uniforms stumbled through the fire. She blinked once, eyelids heavy before she passed out, Trip disappearing with her.


End file.
